Passion, Pain, & Perseverance
by swan-to-neverland
Summary: When Emma Swan is released from prison, she waits for the love of her life to come back for her with dreams of finding their son, but her fairy tale pans out differently than she plans...
1. The Guardian Huntsman

Emma was insusceptible to the noise that filled the space between the walls of the place she had called home for eleven months. Her day of freedom had come, and she anticipated the arrival of someone that belonged to her. He was miles away from her now, but each time he crossed her mind her grasp would tighten on the one and only thing that remained of him; a keychain with a beautiful swan on it.

Meeting him was a marvel. He was handsome, but not in the way you would expect. His dark messy hair and dark eyes to match made her heart dance. He was delighted with himself for popping up in the back of the stolen bug, and the grin he sported because of it had her eyes fluttering. She instantly read him like a book. He was a boy with a broken disposition and laughing eyes to mask it.

She fell in love with him; all of him. From the wrinkles in his face when he smiled, to the way he walked, she decided he was perfect for her. He introduced her to the concept of fate, and not under any condition had she forgotten what he had told her. It's something that unavoidably befalls a person. It was him to her, and her to him.

He was a thief, and he had hijakced her heart. The pain inflicted upon her had been ruthless, and she had spent too many days in that cell she called her own, questioning what she had done to deserve it. She played out any possible scenario as to why he might have to leave her alone, but at the end of each one, she remembered that she was only giving herself false hope. It was foolishness to attatch herself to the thought that someday he may come back and rescue her.

If only he had known about the person that connected them; their son.

Theirson was out there, and now he belonged to another family. She had dreams of a little boy that was snow white, with features comparable to his father's; brunette hair and eyes that were pools of hot chocolate with cinnamon sprinkled over the top. His childish giggle was infectious, and his smile would light up an entire room. She crumbled when he called his parents "mommy" and "daddy." She strugged to get his attention, only to become aware of the fact that she was invisible. Reaching for him would prove difficult when she found he was ungraspable.

Without exception, these dreams haunted her every night. Visions of her little boy were inescapable, and waking up to a stream of tears running down her face made it evident that she was heartbroken.

However, now she found herself standing outside in the pouring rain, trying to figure out what to do with herself next. She tried to leave, but remembered she had nowhere to go. So she stayed there, crossing her fingers behind her back in hopes that someone she belonged to would show up. Her dress and leggings weren't benefitting her in the weather, but her attention was averted when she saw a car in the distance coming her way.

She blinked away the fantasy of the little yellow bug driving towards her, and it was replaced with an old Ford pick up truck. It clunked along until it got to her, and to her amazement, it came to an abrupt stop right in front of her.

A man leaned over from the driver's seat to roll down the passenger side window. When he was finished, he began to talk in an irish accent, something Emma had only seen in movies.

"Get in," He advised her, pushing open the passenger door.

She let it fling open, her eyes scanning him skeptically. A soft laugh left him as he leaned back in his seat, awaiting her decision.

"Why?" She asked at last, her eyes meeting his for the first time.

"Ever waited for your knight in shining armor?" He paused, assuming she would answer. When she didn't he went on. "Well I'm not it, but I'm here to rescue you anyways."

Her stubborn expression didn't break, and he found himself letting out the smallest laugh.

"The inside of my car is getting wet. Hurry up and get in," He joked.

She raised an eyebrow at the level of sass he was throwing her, but assured herself that getting into a strange car with a strange man wasn't as bad as standing in freezing rain. Not like she hadn't done it before. Anyways, she knew how to handle herself if things got weird.

He removed his jacket and put the warm piece of leather around her shoulders.

"Thanks," She said, straightening out her dress.

"You talked, it's a miracle," He teased her, pushing his foot on the pedal.

She rolled her eyes at his attempt at a joke.

"So what's your name?" She asked, keeping her eyes out the window.

"Graham. What about you?"

"Swan. Emma Swan," She revealed, already feeling like she had told him too much.

"What were you doing back there? You looked like you were waiting." The tone of his voice had became noticably sad.

"Yeah, I was," She admitted.

"For who? If you don't mind me asking."

"No- Uhm.. You? I guess..." Her voice drifted off.

Out of the corner of her eye she caught the smile he was holding back.

"Nice to meet you, Emma. Now where to?"

"Wherever you're going," She said, smirking his way.

He pressed his foot to the pedal, causing the old, beat up truck to go just a little bit faster. He perceived her as the kind of person who didn't open up easily; who was afraid to speak. He let it slide, not knowing how that felt but only able to imagine it. The way he found her said a lot, but he figured he'd find it all out soon enough.

She didn't know where they were going, but she was grateful that he had appeared when he did. 


	2. Welcome To Storybrooke

"So, what were you doing in that place?" Graham asked, aspiring to keep the conversation going.

The question made the pounding of Emma's heart accelerate. Her face scrunched up as she figured out how she was going to use as little words as possible.

"In Boston, I mean," He said, correcting himself.

She snuck a glimspe at him, silently questioning how he knew it bothered her. She turned the thought around in her mind, deciding that now would be the best time to warn him about her past. He would still have time to drop her off at the next red light.

"I'm a thief," She said after awhile, her voice hoarse. She knew she wasn't just telling him because he asked; she was finally accepting it after eleven months.

"A thief," He echoed.

"Yes," She whispered, confirming what she had already said.

"_You?_" He asked, staring over at her.

The look of bewilderment in his eyes startled her. The light was getting closer. She escaped his gaze, pretending to be attentive to the scenery.

"Sorry, I just-" He started, shaking his head as he brought his eyes back to the road ahead of them.

Emma couldn't have been any older than 21; she was just a kid. Not to mention she looked like she couldn't harm a fly if she wanted to.

"Yeah, everyone's always just..."

The tone of her voice stung him.

_'Let it go. She's alone and afraid, and even if she doesn't think she needs it, she could really use someone right now,' _Graham thought to himself. He was fixed on helping her, regardless of how angry she was.

"Storybrooke," She slowly pronounced, reading the sign they were nearing. They had passed the light at this point, and she was pleasantly surprised that he hadn't stopped.

"Welcome to Storybrooke," He said, putting on a happy expression to cover up his contemplation of her. The tonality of his voice made it sound exceptionally better than when she'd said it; enchanting, even. "Ever heard of it?"

"No," She answered.

The town was luring her in at first look. It seemed to be a bit broken down, but it was nicer than any place she'd ever been before. She refrained from trusting this place just yet, but something in her longed to.

At distinct moments he noticed her eyes flicker with hope, but during other moments she looked completely broken. He debated if she knew her face was so readable. He had to give it to her; she had a thick exterior, but he was going to chip away at it until he got to know the girl buried underneath it all.

"Hungry?" He asked, pointing to the diner that was just ahead of them.

As she shrugged, she was reminded of the jacket draped over her shoulders.

"You're probably going to want this back," She said, starting to remove it.

"No," He shook his head. "Keep it."

"But it's yours. I don't want to take anything that's yours," She replied.

His heart melted. This girl, a theif? She seemed so loveable, and it was absolutely clear that someone hadn't loved her right.

"Graham," She said, tearing him out of his hypnotic state.

"Yeah?"

"You've already done enough for me, and I don't know how to thank you for it."

Truth was, she didn't owe him a thing. He was doing this for _her. _It was like some mystifying force inside himself needed to help _her_.

"Dinner on me," He beamed.

"It's the middle of the night," She laughed, unsuccesfully shaking his smile from her mind.

"11:30," He corrected her.

"You don't you need to be getting home?" She suggested.

"No."

"Aren't you tired?"

"Hardly."

Now he was smirking her way, waiting for the next ridiculous excuse for her to leave.

"You really have nothing better to do than to have a midnight snack with me?" She joked.

"Of course I do. There's some papers I could be filling out for work, some phone calls I could make, or I could be hanging out with my buddies."

He watched as her heart fell to the floor of the old pick up truck, and when he grasped what he had done, he found himself scrambling to pick it up. She had the perfect puppy dog face, and the tears brimming her eyes only added to it.

"But there is _nothing_ I'd rather be doing right now," He said, feeling the lump in his throat.

"Really?" She asked in disbelief.

"Yes, really. Now let's get some food into you. You must be starving," He said, trying to end the conversation. He imagined her going into full on hysterics, and that was something he didn't think he could handle.

As they exited the truck, Emma took a second to take a deep breath. She closed her eyes, holding back the tears that were begging to fall. Graham was being so generous to her, and people like that didn't cross her path everyday.

The bell on the door jingled, causing Emma's eyes to shoot open. There stood an older lady with the brightest smile.

"It's a little late for dinner, don't ya think?" She joked.

"Yes, I believe it is," Graham admitted.

"And who's your friend you've got there?" She asked, winking at him.

"Emma," He told her, smiling at the ground.

"Well aren't you the cutest little thing," She said, scanning Emma up and down.

"I don't want to bother you-"

"Come on in! How could I say no to you?" The older woman smiled at Emma, rushing the two of them inside.

Emma followed Graham to a little booth opposite of the door.

"What can I get for you, pretty eyes?" The older lady asked her, holding a notepad and pen.

She _did_ have pretty eyes; something Graham couldn't disagree with. It was a shame how much darkness they conveyed, showing that she'd given her soul to someone who had destroyed it and given it back with no remorse.

"Two hot chocolates," He answered, winking at the woman.

"With cinnamon, Ma'am," Emma added.

"Call me Granny," She said, before leaving their table.

"Hot chocolate with cinnamon?" Graham asked, puzzled.

"You've never had it?"

"No, I've never even heard of it."

"I used to have it all the time," Emma said, looking away from him.

Another touchy subject, he knew.

"Well, maybe we can have it more now," He suggested, smiling.

"_We_?"

She had ordered it, but he noted that it also brought back memories that weren't the best. He would make new memories; ones that _were _the best, so that every time she drank it she'd remember him. Not at any time had he ever added cinnamon to his grocery list, but this time he would.

"It's on the house," Granny said, setting the two mugs on the table.

"Thank you, so much," Graham replied.

Granny smiled and left without another word.

"Why did she do that?" Emma whispered, eyeing the drink skeptically.

"Oh, I've known her for a long time... Longer than I can remember, actually."

His nonchalant tone restored her confidence, and when he took a sip, she followed.

"It fogged up my glasses," Emma giggled, removing them from her face.

It was hardly possible not to laugh when she did. It was contagious, and he could imagine everyone in Storybrooke thinking so.

"Granny is just one of the countless characters you'll meet here in Storybrooke," He told her, watching her dip her finger in the whipped cream that covered her drink.

"Who else is there?" She asked. She popped her whipped cream covered finger in her mouth, and nodded to herself in approval of how good it was.

"David, for one. He's an amazing friend. You'd like him," Graham advised.

"We'll see," She challenged him.

"August, who's also my friend. He's a writer that rides a motorcycle."

Emma raised an eyebrow at him.

"Interesting combination, I know," Graham laughed.

"Very," She agreed. "So what do you do here in Storybrooke? What's your job?"

"To be at the police station very early tomorrow morning," He nodded, drinking down the rest of his hot chocolate.

Her jaw dropped as she slowly sat her mug on the table.

"You're a_ cop?_" She asked, dragging out the last word.

"Deputy," He corrected her. "Is there a problem?"

"What if I get myself into trouble here?" She said, a nervous tone taking over her voice.

"Looks like I'll have a 'take the new girl to work day,'" He joked.

Emma thought twice about running from this conversation, only because of how great Graham had been.

"Don't move," He warned her, his voice stiffening. He knew that look. The look people had when they were going to run.

"I don't want to be a liability," She told him, her voice wobbling.

_'Damn it,'_ He thought, rubbing his forehead. He had done it again, for the third time tonight. Her heart was so delicate, but he had to learn to be more careful with how he talked to her.

"No, no... You aren't." He said, feeling that lump in his throat return. "I can't see this girl you keep talking about."

"You didn't know me before this," She said, her eyebrows creasing.

"You're in a new town with new people. Now's the time where you determine who you were, remember out who you are, and decide who you want to be." He whispered, leaning closer to her.

She stared down at the table, her eyes fluttering. That complicated mind of hers was running itself in circles; thinking a mile a minute.

"What if I can't?" She asked. Her voice faded away as a tear dripped onto his jacket that was still draped around her.

"But you _can_," He told her, refusing to let his own tears fall. "Right now, tell me who you want to be."

"I found the wrong ways to do the right things," She told him. "I meant well; I always meant well. I just wanted to help people, and I still want to do that."

"I can help you, okay?" He asked, blinking away the water in his eyes.

She shrugged, inhaling a deep breath in.

"So there will be none of this," He joked.

"Sorry," She smiled, letting him wipe away the next tear.

He gave it his best shot at smiling back at her, but he felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest.

"So you basically have two options for tonight," He told her, checking the clock. "You can either hitch hike it to wherever you're going, or you can crash at my place."

"You want me to s_tay?_ After everything I've put you through tongiht?" She sniffled.

"Let's put it this way," He explained. "You're like a stray puppy. At first, you're not quite sure if it'll bite your hand off or not. When it doesn't, it starts to grow on you. And before you know it, it's time to say goodbye... But you don't want to."

Emma knew a smooth talker or a liar when she saw one, but Graham meant everything he was saying.

"Your place," She decided, getting up from the booth.

"Are you sure?"

"The other option you gave me wasn't exactly.. The best," She laughed, making her way to the door. "Do you have a better idea?"

"Here at Granny's Inn," He suggested, following her.

"And where am I going to get the money for that?" She asked, looking back to raise an eyebrow at him.

"She'd let you stay for free," He said, stopping her before she could get out the door.

"I don't want her to do that. I already owe you. I don't want to owe her, too."

"I could let you borrow a few dollars."

"I'm pretty sure I _just_ said I already owe you. How would I pay you back?"

It was apparent that her first shot at life hadn't gone too well, so he was going to give her another chance. She wanted to help people, and he knew just the way to get her started. He reached in his back pocket, bringing out a badge.

"Become deputy?" He asked, smirking at her.

"_You're_ the deputy."

"Please?" He asked, poking out his bottom lip.

"Graham, I can't- I just met you. How do you know I'm the right person for this?" She asked.

"Sometimes when you know, you know," He admitted. "You could use the extra money, and I could use a sidekick."

It was true; she _did _need the money, and Graham had helped her a lot. This was the least she could do.

"I'm not planning on staying," She told him.

"Where else do you have to go?"

He made a perfectly good point. She told him she wanted to help people, and it was happening sooner than she thought it would. She gave in, and held out her hand. He placed the badge in her palm, and watched her fingers close around it.

"Thank you," She smiled, walking past him and out the door.

He followed her to the truck, and they both climbed in without a word.

There was something in that blonde pony-tailed girl with the green eyes and hipster glasses that intoxicated him. Maybe it was the striped dress and the combat boots, or the way his leather jacket looked over her shoulders. It could be in the way her laugh elevated him, or the way her emotions got the best of her. Or it could be that intricate puzzle of a heart inside her that he was doing his best to solve without breaking.

The ride to Graham's house was easy on Emma. She took note of every building they passed, figuring she'd know her way around the small town in no time. She didn't want to stay here, but she also didn't feel the need to go, either.

"This is it," He said, turning off the car.

After entering the house, Graham removed his jacket from Emma's shoulders and placed it on the coat rack. He eyed her now, feeling like the piece of material would wish for her to wear it again.

"What?" She asked, observant of his staring problem.

"I was going to give you the full on tour of the house, but you look as if you're a bit tired," He told her, glancing back at the jacket.

"Tomorrow," She smiled.

"Well for tonight, let me show you to the guest room," He said, making his way up the first few stairs.

"You have a guest room?" She asked.

"Sometimes my boys and I have a little too much fun," He laughed. "They end up crashing here."

"I'm fine with sleeping on the couch," He heard her say.

The sound of her footsteps behind him were silent now, and he was confident that an excuse would leave her lips any second. When he reached the top of the stairs, he turned around.

"If they meet me and see that I've taken over their man-cave, I don't think that'll make for a good first impression," She said, scrunching up her face.

"They'll be fine," He assured her, continuing to walk towards the room.

She rolled her eyes but followed him anyways, trying not to smile when she reached the room. Yes, it was very boy-ish, but it was also very Graham. The walls were dark green, the color of her own eyes. The king sized bed was covered with camoflauge blankets, and everything in the room matched.

"What do you think?," He asked. He was proud of the room.

"It's very... You," She said, not wanting to bash him. "But what's with the animal heads?"

"I'm a huntsman," He shrugged.

"A what?"

"A hunter," He said, clearing his throat.

"You killed those?" She gaped.

"Yes."

"Like, with your gun?"

"Yes," He repeated.

She cocked her head to the side, making an effort to comprehend why someone would do that.

"Well anyways, you can stay here as long as you need to," He told her as she sat on the bed.

"This is really nice," She commented, bouncing up and down. Emma had a childlike spirit, and it was _very _entertaining to watch it come out of her.

"My room is right across the hall, if you need anything," He smiled, leaving her room and walking to his own.

She watched him leave and studied the room, finding herself feeling horrible for the wall ordament animals that watched her. She shuddered at the thought of changing in front of them. Sure, they were just decorations, but their gaze seemed to follow her. Now the question was what she was going to change into...

"I need something!" She yelled.

"It hasn't even been thirty seconds," He laughed, poking his head out of his room.

"My clothes are soaked," She frowned, looking down at her dress.

His head disappeared back into his room, and she wondered what his solution to this problem was. A shirt flew across the hallway, landing directly in her room.

"I think you... Dropped your shirt!" She yelled, squinting to see what it said.

_'Storybrooke Police Station,' _It read.

"No, you're supposed to wear it!" He yelled back.

She heard drawers opening and then being slammed shut.

"Pants would be great, too," She said, picking up the shirt.

She held it up to herself and examined her appearance in the floor length mirror. It was going to be extremely large on her, but she was hoping that would make it extremely comfy.

That's when a pair of plaid pajama pants flew through the doorway, landing not too far from her feet. They were red, and somewhat matched the shirt.

"Thank you!" Emma shouted, awaiting a response.

"You're welcome," Graham replied. She detected the smile in his voice and it made her smile, too.

"Goodnight, Graham!" She yelled.

"Goodnight, Emma," He whispered, following with the sound of his door closing.

She quickly changed into the new ensamble Graham had lended her, and made the decision that she didn't look half bad in his clothes. They were as comfy as she had hoped they'd be, and they smelled like pine. She shrugged, assuming it was the whole foresty hunter thing.

She climbed into the bed that awaited her, curling into a little ball and letting thoughts from the day float around in her mind. She had gone from a crappy prison bed to a lovely king size with warm blankets and fluffy pillows. She had wrapped rolls of caution tape around her heart, banning fate and destiny from reaching it, but they were there, sneaking their way back in.

His favorite pajamas were now on the opposite side of the hall on a girl he had just met a few hours prior. He imagined the shirt reaching her mid-thigh. The pants had to be baggy; the bottom of the legs dragging on the floor. Her hair most likely up in a bun.. Because he was pretty sure that's what all girls did when they went to bed. But then again, she wasn't like all girls.

She was intelligent, cynical, and ingenious. Her eyes were emeralds; her hair a waterfall. An adolescent spirit unveiled itself when she laughed. It affected him; _she_ affected him in more ways than either of them could comprehend.


End file.
